


Love Comes Tumbling Down

by elless



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Future Fic, Lack of Communication, M/M, Separation, lots of sad feels, mentions of divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elless/pseuds/elless
Summary: They vowed for better or for worse. As it turns out, that’s harder than either of them expected. Two kids into their marriage and everyone around Buck and Eddie thought they had the perfect family. Until they separated. Now they can barely exist in the same space long enough to hand off the kids between their separate homes. They’re both so heartbroken and so damn hurt about all of it. Will they ever be able to move past that?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	Love Comes Tumbling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jenny for the beta and writing a much better summary than I ever could. ❤️
> 
> title from the Matt Nathanson song

Buck hates Sundays. They used to be his favorite. Lazy mornings cuddling in bed with Eddie and the girls. Pancake breakfasts. Afternoons at the park or beach. There was laughter and kisses and love.

Now there’s tears and questions he can’t answer.

And every other Sunday he has to watch his heart walk away, Eddie taking the girls home for seven days that seem to last 100 times longer.

Buck crouches in the entranceway of his condo, London tucked against his chest, her little body shaking with her sobs. Emory, pressed against his side, is quiet as usual. She may have Buck’s blue eyes and bright smile, but she’s all Eddie in attitude—stoic, serious, and stubborn. London is her complete opposite, a mini Maddie in looks and temperament.

“Why can’t you come home?” London asks again, and Buck wonders how many times his heart can break before it cracks in two permanently.

He glances up at Eddie, but he stands against the wall, resolutely not looking at Buck, which is nothing new. Buck has no good answers for London or for himself. If he doesn’t understand it, how can she?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t.”

“But why?”

Rubbing her back, he kisses the top of her head. She’s only four and doesn’t understand why her dads no longer live together. She’s their sensitive one, quick with smiles but also easily upset, whether it’s a hurt animal or broken toy.

Buck hates this. He hates being away from home and their girls and Eddie. He’d rented a condo close to their house to make it easier on Emory and London with school and daycare and being close to their friends, switching between here and home every other week. It was supposed to be temporary while he and Eddie worked out their shit. It’s been six months, and Eddie won’t even _look_ at him.

“Hey.” He eases London away from his chest and brushes her messy dark hair out of her face. Seeing her lip quiver breaks his heart. Again. “You’ll get to see me soon. Next Sunday will come before you know it.”

“Papa, I have a soccer game on Wednesday,” Emory says, tugging on Buck’s t-shirt.

“Right. See, it’ll be even sooner than we thought. Just a few days. Okay?”

London nods, sniffing loudly. “Okay, Papa.”

He kisses her forehead, forcing a smile onto his face. She seems so small, in her unicorn t-shirt, a hole ripped in the knee of her jeans, hand-me-downs from her older sister. Buck wants to wrap both of them in his arms and protect them from everything bad in the world. But he can’t because in this case, he’s part of what’s hurting them.

“Come on, girls,” Eddie says, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezing. “We have to get to Pepa’s.”

Buck bites back a nasty comment and represses the urge to snatch the girls up, go back inside, and lock the door. Instead, he gathers them into a hug, soaking in as much of their warmth as possible to carry him through for the next seven days.

“You be good for your daddy, okay?” he tells them.

Emory scrunches her nose; she’s always good and tries to keep her sister out of trouble, though London is too full of mischief and energy for it to work 100% of the time.

“All right. Love you.” He stands but keeps a hand on each of them, not willing to let go yet. “Have fun at Pepa’s.”

London’s lip wobbles as Eddie takes her hand, tears slipping down her cheeks. Buck watches them walk away, London clinging to Eddie’s arm and Emory rolling their suitcases behind her like usual. His heart is in his throat, choking him so he can’t breathe.

He waits until they pull out of the driveway, before he goes inside, slamming the door because he can’t scream out his frustration and anger and pain. The pictures on the table by the door rattle but stay upright.

Buck _hates_ this. He misses Eddie and their life together. He’s not blameless for their situation—he’d instigated their fights as often as Eddie—and he knows he can’t push Eddie. He has to wait for Eddie to be ready, but it’s slowly killing him. He misses the warmth of their home. His condo is cold and empty, sterile. He’d brought in only the basics for himself and made Emory and London’s room as cozy and welcoming as possible, but it’s not home. He doesn’t want it to be.

It’s supposed to be temporary.

_Fuck._

He curls up on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, and cries, just like he does every Sunday when the girls leave.

*****

“Okay, hop in,” Eddie says, taking their suitcases and placing them in the trunk.

London, of course, climbs across the backseat instead of opening the door on her side. Eddie never expected to be the sensible sedan type, but he’d traded in the truck just before Emory was born.

Once they settle, he checks their seatbelts and kisses their foreheads. Emory smiles and pats his cheek seriously, causing his own smile to slip before he can wrest it back into place. London smiles. She’s not crying anymore luckily, but that doesn’t make it any better. He feels like an asshole, putting them through this, but he doesn’t know how to make it better.

“Ready to go to Pepa’s?” Eddie asks with as much false cheer as he can muster, glancing at the girls in the rearview mirror and backing out of Buck’s driveway.

Halfway down the street, Emory starts their favorite car game, which involves making up nonsense songs about the things they see on the street. Their off-key singing brings a real smile to Eddie’s face, and he relaxes his grip on the steering wheel.

He finds a parking spot down the block from Pepa’s and lets Emory and London run ahead when they spot Abuela sitting on the porch swing, surrounded by a throng of people. It’s been awhile since he’s seen her, he realizes with a pang. Eddie should visit her more often; he knows how lonely people at assisted living facilities get. Her hug is as strong as ever.

The house is full of people. Eddie forgets what this party is for—a birthday? an engagement?—but his family hardly needs a reason to get together, whether they have an event to celebrate or not. But Eddie likes the noise. It’s a great distraction from the turmoil of his thoughts. They’re never quiet lately.

Eddie loses track of the girls as he slowly weaves his way toward the kitchen. Everyone stops him to talk. Most people avoid the Buck-shaped elephant in the room, though a few ask how Eddie is with liberal use of eyebrows and exaggerated frowns, and a couple distant cousins had apparently missed the proverbial family newsletter and ask him where Buck is. Eddie hides his wince and answers as plainly and quickly as possible, then flees, finally reaching the kitchen.

Emory and London catch up with him just as he’s tucking into a full plate of food. He sits them down at the table with the plate and cups of juice and goes back to fill another plate for himself. He appreciates the food—he doesn’t get much home cooking anymore—and [soaks in the warmth] of being surrounded by his family, swept up in the joy of so many people, even though he’s not exactly in a celebratory mood.

After they eat and Eddie cleans rice out of London’s _hair_ , Emory and London drag him outside to the backyard, one hanging off each hand. They immediately abandon him to run off with a dozen cousins, playing some sort of tag game that Eddie doesn’t understand. The rules seem to change every five minutes. Eddie wanders over to one of the many lawn chairs scattered around and drops into it to watch them. He can pick out their giggles and happy squeals out of the group, and his stomach swoops. His girls’ giggles is the best sound in the world.

He loves them so much.

Every time he drops Emory and London off at Buck’s, he’s _terrified_ it’ll be the last time he sees them. What if Buck decides to keep them permanently? He knows logically that Buck would never do that. Their relationship hasn’t deteriorated that badly yet. But fear isn’t logical, and he can’t help the anxiety that wracks him whenever he leaves them with Buck. When they’re at home with him, he packs as much love and fun in as he can.

And the weeks he’s by himself, he tries not to worry too much or give in to the loneliness.

“Eddie? Do my eyes deceive me or is that my second favorite nephew?”

“ _Second_ favorite?” Eddie grumbles, standing up and squeezing Pepa in a tight hug.

“I see Chris more than you lately, and he’s busy with school.” She gives him her _look_ , and Eddie shrinks back, shifting guiltily.

“My schedule has been crazy.”

“Mm-hm.” She crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And how is Buck?”

Coming from anyone else, he’d bristle and change the subject, but Pepa has been there for him at some of his lowest points. He owes her the truth.

“I don’t know. Things haven’t changed.”

“Edmundo,” she chides.

He shrugs to ease an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades. “It is what it is, Pepa.”

“What I know is that you miss him and I know you still love him.”

“It’s not that simple,” he says quietly.

“No.” Pepa pats his chest, right over his heart, and smiles gently. “But he’s worth it.”

Swallowing, Eddie nods.

*****

Buck stomps after Eddie. He shouldn’t. He should help pack up gear or check with Chim that nothing else needs done. But he’s _pissed_ and he’s tired of swallowing his anger and pretending everything’s okay.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Buck demands as they approach the trucks.

Eddie jerks to a halt and turns to face Buck. “ _My_ problem?” he snarls. He taps his chest, then flings an arm toward Buck, like he’s throwing a projectile at him. Buck flinches but stands his ground, not willing to give Eddie an inch. “You almost got the two of us killed!”

“I took a risk! That’s our _job_ , Eddie!”

“ _Calculated_ risk is part of the job. Five more minutes and all of us would’ve died, including the three people we were down there to save.”

Buck clenches his jaw, curling his hands into fists at his sides. Eddie’s lack of faith in him cuts deep. They used to be in lock step with everything, anticipating each other’s needs on call, backing each other’s decisions regarding the kids, _trusting_ each other. Being out of rhythm with Eddie means his whole life is tilted off its axis. He feels unsettled. Broken.

“I know how to do my job, Eddie. And in case you haven’t noticed, I saved those people and the two of us are still alive.”

“You were lucky, and one day that luck is gonna run out. You have children to go home to.”

Buck’s scalp prickles, and his face flushes with anger. “You think I don’t know that?” Chris, Emory, and London are _all_ he thinks about.

“Then act like it!” Eddie snaps, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “You would think after all these years you’d learn not to jump into danger half-cocked and grow the fuck up.”

Buck recoils. It’d hurt less if Eddie punched him.

“At least when I go off ‘half-cocked’ I actually save people and don’t leave a mother and daughter to die on the bottom of a ravine.”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. That call haunted Eddie for weeks. It hadn’t been his fault. Poor weather conditions and a broken line were to blame, but Eddie took on the responsibility himself. No matter how many times Buck assured him he did nothing wrong, Eddie internalized the blame. But that’s the thing about being with someone for so long; you know all their vulnerable spots, where to dig in to cause the most pain and exactly what to say, each word a little barb. And they’ve had months of learning how to exploit those spots.

The anger drains out of Eddie’s face, replaced by betrayal, and all the fight leaves Buck.

“Eddie—” Apologies crowd his throat, but he can’t get any of them out.

“Fuck you, Buck.”

It hurts even more that it’s said quietly with no inflection, in contrast to the earlier shouting.

He takes a step toward Eddie to do _something_ to ease the guilt and disquiet squirming in his gut, but Eddie’s hard expression stops him.

“Hey! Enough! Back off, both of you,” Chim tells them, suddenly standing between them. He turns to Eddie, holding a hand up to stop Buck from talking. “Eddie, go over there and cool off.”

Eddie works his jaw and narrows his eyes but stalks off after a venomous glare toward Buck.

Buck looks around and notices for the first time that the kicked anthill of activity is done. The ambulances are gone, the gawking onlookers dispersed now that the excitement is over. The rest of the crew huddles to the side, talking and shooting him and Eddie both curious looks. He breathes hard and curls his fingers so his nails dig into his palms. He welcomes the small pinpoints of pain.

Chim stares him down, hands on his hips. “You both assured me your personal lives wouldn’t interfere with work.”

“I know.” He hunches his shoulders, shame crawling down his spine. “It won’t happen again.”

“Better not. Look, Buck, I’d prefer to keep you both on my team, but if you can’t work together anymore without sniping at each other, I will have to transfer one of you.”

Buck nods miserably. He hates putting Chim in this position, having to balance the roles of friend, captain, and brother-in-law.

Chim sighs and squeezes Buck’s shoulder. “Okay. We’re heading out. You ride in the other truck back to the station.”

“Chim.”

He looks at Buck silently with an eyebrow raised until Buck capitulates with a jerky nod. Buck trudges to the trucks, avoiding everyone’s eye and steering clear of Eddie, and climbs in, stomach churning unpleasantly.

*****

Buck checks his watch, leg bouncing impatiently. It’s almost 10 and Eddie’s usually—

His head jerks up at the knock on his door. He jumps to his feet but pauses before opening the door to take a calming breath. He doesn’t want Eddie to think he’s been sitting around all morning waiting for them to come, even though that’s exactly what he did, after vacuuming and running to the store for Emory and London’s favorite cereal.

When he opens the door, though, it’s not Eddie standing there but Chris, Emory and London crowding in the doorway and his girlfriend lurking in the back. He hasn’t seen Chris in a few weeks because of his classes and job at the university paper.

Buck grins. “Chris, what are you doing here?” he asks while trying to hug Chris and the girls at the same time. He needs more arms.

Chris pulls away, laughing, and it’s the best sound Buck’s heard in days.

Buck picks up London while Emory squeezes past him in the doorway, dragging their suitcases behind her into their room. She’s quiet, but she’s always quiet.

“Dad’s busy,” Chris says. “He asked me to drop the girls off for him.”

Busy. Right. It has nothing to do with their messy blowout after the call the other day. He doesn’t question it further, not wanting to put Chris in the middle of his and Eddie’s relationship problems. The girls are stuck in their tug-o-war enough.

“Can you stay for a bit? It’s so good to see you and B—”

“Me too, Papa?” London interrupts, looping her arms around his neck and bouncing. She’s wearing one of her “twirly” dresses, purple with pink and blue flowers, paired with black and white striped tights and her favorite cat socks. She’s been insisting on dressing herself lately, and Eddie’d clearly indulged her today.

“Of course you too, bean. I’m always happy to see you.”

She smacks a kiss to his cheek and lays her head on his shoulder, and Buck struggles to keep it together. He turns to Chris’s girlfriend so he won’t start crying.

“And you, Bree. It’s good to see you too,” Buck says, combing his fingers through London’s tangled curls.

“Thanks, mister—” She stops and flushes when he gives her a mock glare. “I mean Buck.”

He’s been trying to get her to call him Buck for the entirety of her nine-month relationship with Chris. It’s still a work in progress.

“We can stay,” Chris says. He wraps an arm around Bree’s shoulders and smiles at Buck, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Great! Come on in.” They follow him inside and stand around the breakfast bar. “How are classes?”

Chris scrunches his nose. “Meh. Not as easy this semester. Since I finally settled on a major, the bullsh—uh, elective classes are done. But Bree got a 4.0 last semester.” He hooks a thumb toward Bree with a proud smile, and she blushes. It’s adorable.

“Chris,” she whines quietly, covering her face with her hands.

“That’s awesome, Bree! I’d be telling everyone about that if I were you,” Buck says.

“Thanks, mis—Buck.”

To save her from further embarrassment, he changes the subject.

“What about a movie night?” he asks, biting his lip at London’s deeply confused “but it’s day out, Papa.”

“Popcorn? And a giant blanket pile?” Chris asks.

“Of course.” Never mind that it’s barely past 10 a.m. All three of his kids are here. That warrants ruining their appetites for lunch.

“Awesome.”

“Why don’t you guys gather the blankets and pillows? I’m gonna check on Emmy.”

She hasn’t come out of their room yet. She likes being alone but usually not on Sundays when they get dropped off. That’s usually the only time she’s ever clingy.

Buck knocks on the partially open bedroom door before going inside. Emory’s lying on her bed, facing the wall. Buck’s stomach drops. Eddie would’ve let him know if she was feeling ill this morning. Sitting on the side of the bed, he rubs her back between her shoulder blades.

“Emmy? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She shrugs.

“Are you sick?” he prods, reaching out to check her forehead. “Does your tummy hurt?”

Another shrug. Buck sighs quietly.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen at school to upset you?”

That must be it because she rolls over to bury her face in his stomach and _sobs_. Alarmed, Buck holds her close. Emory hardly ever cries, not even when she gets hurt, except if she’s really sick or the time London slipped on ice and got a concussion. Emory acts so grownup, helps take care of London, and faces everything with the same seriousness. Buck sometimes forgets that she’s still only eight years old.

“What happened, sweetheart?” he asks softly.

He can’t understand her at first through her tears, but finally she chokes out, “I don’t want you to go away forever!”

Buck flinches. She’s known about their dangerous jobs for years so it can’t be about that. “I’m not going away, sweetheart. What makes you say that?”

“Tucker at school said his parents got a divorce and his dad moved out and he never sees him at all anymore!”

Buck’s stomach twists and his heart seizes, his whole body flashing hot. He hates what this is doing to the kids, including Chris. It’s affecting all of them, even if they don’t bring it up much. He doesn’t want this life for them. He tries so hard to be a good dad. He didn’t have much of a role model in that growing up, and it just made him determined to be the best father. And yet…

“Oh, Emmy. First of all, your daddy and I are _not_ getting divorced.” He won’t let that happen. Somehow, he’ll get his husband back. “And no matter what happens, I will always, always be here for you and your sister.”

“Promise?” Her tears have slowed, but her voice wavers.

Buck brushes her hair out of her eyes. The perfect pigtails Eddie put in this morning are hopelessly askew now, and there’s no way Buck will be able to fix them for her.

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. And neither is your daddy. We love you and London so much.”

He wonders briefly how Eddie’s handling the girls’ questions. They don’t talk beyond the necessities. But he’s sure Eddie’s saying all the right things.

“I love you too, Papa.”

He pulls her up into a hug, her arms snaking around his neck. Whatever else he’s done, Emory, London, and Chris are the best parts of his life.

He says something that makes her giggle, and that eases some of the ache in his heart.

“Chris and Bree are staying for a movie. You ready to go out to the living room?”

“Yeah!”

Kissing her forehead, he marvels at the resilience of kids. “All right. Let’s go.”

They stop in the bathroom so Emory can wash her face, Buck pulling her hair into a passable ponytail. When they reach the living room, Chris and London are sprawled out on what is a truly epic blanket pile, and Bree is pouring popcorn into bowls. Buck helps her carry them to the blankets and settles in. London immediately crawls onto his lap, Emory pressed close to his side. He kisses the top of London’s head and wraps an arm around Emory. 

*****

Eddie watches as Buck shoulders his duffel and races out of the locker room. He’s going home to the girls, Eddie knows, hopefully in time for dinner if traffic’s generous. Eddie turns away, surpassing a hot flare of jealousy. He’ll get to pick them up in a few days, but he misses them so much when they’re with Buck. Those weeks drag by, seeming to last years.

He almost wishes the shift wasn’t over, even though it was a long, non-stop day. The only thing waiting for him at home is silence and crappy TV, and he’s not in a rush to sit at home alone. He stares into his locker, at the pictures hanging inside, from Christmas, their wedding, Chris’s graduation, sharp reminders of his life before it all started falling apart. He should take them down, has almost done it a few times, but something always stops him. It feels like giving up on Buck, on _them_ , and he can’t bear to do that yet.

Instead of changing into his street clothes, he reaches for shorts and a t-shirt.

Chimney grabs his bag and eyes Eddie. “Aren’t you going home?” he asks.

“Nah.” He drops onto the bench to tie his shoes. “Gonna work out first.” _There’s nothing for me to go home to._ He bites that back and stands, stretching his arms over his head.

Chimney gives him a long, considering look. Eddie squirms, dropping his head and breaking eye contact.

“Okay,” Chimney says finally, obviously changing his mind about saying something about Buck.

Eddie’s grateful. He’s been getting an earful from Pepa lately and doesn’t need yet another person giving him unsolicited advice.

Chimney claps him on the back and walks out, leaving Eddie alone in the locker room.

Putting in earbuds, Eddie cranks the music, a playlist of fast, upbeat songs, then hits the weights, losing himself in the rhythm of counting reps. Working out and on calls are the only times he can shut off his brain and forget what a mess his life is, though Buck is always there, a persistent buzz at the back of his head no matter what he does.

He goes hard, lifting more weight and staying longer than he should. His muscles ache, and he’s tired—so damn tired—but maybe that means he’ll actually sleep tonight instead of staring at the clock and wondering how he failed at two marriages.

He grabs a quick shower and heads out, an hour after the end of shift. He stops for takeout, then finally goes home.

Dumping his keys on the table by the door, he toes off his shoes and carries his food into the kitchen. It’s a pathetic meal, lazy and unhealthy. He misses coming home to the smell of Buck’s home cooking and Buck in the kitchen with the girls, all of them singing off-key. London would be at the table coloring and Emory standing on a chair beside Buck while he taught her how to roll meatballs or separate an egg. That was Buck’s time with Emory and London since they’d long ago banished Eddie from the kitchen unless they needed an extra set of hands to chop vegetables or stir something.

He misses the sound of Buck’s bright laughter and the way his eyes would light up when he saw Eddie. And now the house is empty and lonely and too fucking quiet, like a tomb.

He doesn’t know how this happened. They used to be _happy_. How did they get to the point where they can’t talk without fighting?

He transfers his food on a plate in a vain attempt to feel less like a loser and settles on the couch to eat. He scrolls through Netflix, but nothing pings his interest. Nothing much appeals lately. He pauses briefly on one of Emory’s favorite movies but continues searching. He wonders what Buck and the girls are doing. It’s getting late, almost their bedtime, so Buck’s probably trying to get London to stop talking for five minutes so he can read a bedtime story. Eddie wishes he was there, listening to Buck effortlessly switch between different character voices, Emory quietly reading along, London fighting to stay awake.

Eddie abandons his endless scrolling when his phone lights up with a video call. He frowns, surprised to see Buck’s name. Panic immediately flashes through him. Buck never calls him, and he especially wouldn’t call this late unless something happened to Emory or London. Heart in his throat, he jabs the accept button so hard he hurts his finger. He shakes it out, ignoring the pain as Buck’s face appears on his screen.

“Buck? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Everything’s fine,” Buck reassures him, tone gentle. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie blows out a shaky breath. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“Emmy wanted to show you something.”

The phone jostles as Buck focuses on Emory, cuddled close to him in her car pajamas. She beams at him. It takes him a moment to notice, but then it clicks.

“You finally lost your tooth!”

It’s been hanging by a thread for days, but she refused to let anyone touch it.

She nods vigorously, bouncing on the couch. Buck smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“What finally did it?” Eddie asks.

Buck bumps her gently with his elbow; she’s too busy prodding at the new empty spot with her tongue to answer.

“Your daddy wants to know how you lost your tooth,” Buck says when Emory looks at him blankly.

“Brushing my teeth!” she says proudly, beaming again.

Eddie laughs, though he has to blink back tears. It’s stupid to be upset about missing a lost tooth, such a little moment, but the little moments are important too. He hates being a remote father again, learning something about his kid over video call. He’s grateful Buck called so he could be a part of it. But they should be _here_.

“Don’t forget to put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy,” Eddie says.

Emory rolls her eyes, and Eddie suppresses a snort. He can hear her unspoken _duh_. God, he loves this kid. “I know, Daddy. Papa helped me make a pocket for it.”

“An envelope. Out of construction paper,” Buck clarifies.

Probably orange. She’s obsessed with orange lately.

“That’s awesome, Emmy.”

Emory grins again, and Eddie’s heart squeezes.

“London asleep already?” Eddie asks, struggling to maintain his lighthearted tone.

“Yeah. She barely made it three pages into the book, but this one was too excited to talk to you and wouldn’t wait until morning.” Buck ruffles her hair, and Emory scrunches her nose in annoyance.

“I’m glad you didn’t wait,” Eddie says. “It’s exciting news.”

“Yes. But it’s past your bedtime now, Emmy. Say goodnight to your daddy.”

She makes another face but nods. “Okay. Night-night, Daddy.”

“Night, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eddie blows her a kiss and waves. Emory hops up after hugs and kisses from Buck. Buck watches her bounce down the hall, and Eddie recognizes some of his conflicted feelings reflected in Buck’s eyes. Buck turns back to the camera, clearing his throat awkwardly. Eddie wants to thank him for calling, but it doesn’t feel as easy now that their Emory buffer has gone.

“So she was okay? With the whole tooth falling out thing?” Emory seems like a safe topic, but shock flickers over Buck’s face before he resumes a neutral expression.

“It, uh, it didn’t bleed much, but she was really brave about it.”

She’d been hysterical after losing her first tooth, terrified of the blood gushing out of her mouth. It had taken both Eddie and Buck and an ice pack to calm her down. He’d never seen her that upset before or since.

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “That’s good.”

“I should—” Buck waves vaguely in the direction of the girls’ room.

“Yeah. Me too.” That makes little sense. Eddie grimaces, shifting uncomfortably.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck says softly after a moment of hesitation.

“Night, Buck.”

Eddie holds his phone, staring at the blank screen, for a long time after Buck ends the call. Shaking himself, he drops the phone onto the couch beside him and picks up the TV remote. He chooses something at random on Netflix—he’s not even sure what it is—and turns the volume way up to drown out the oppressive silence of the house.

*****

The sun is setting.

Buck’s not sure when that happened. He blinked, and the entire day went by.

It was a rough call, one of the worst Buck’s experienced in his ten-plus years as a firefighter. A bridge over a highway collapsed during morning rush hour, trapping people in their cars below, injuring dozens. It was a mess. Took hours to sort out the best way to move cars and rubble to get everyone underneath and more often than not, that turned out to be recovery rather than rescue. Buck tried to shut off his brain and not see the broken bodies, especially the smaller ones, but he’s never been good at compartmentalizing and repressing his emotions.

He’s exhausted, mentally and physically. Things are quieting down. He removes his helmet and strips off his coat, wiping his face on a towel that, while not exactly clean, is at least cleaner than his face. He downs a bottle of water, soothing a throat raw from dust and shouting. Feeling a little lost, he glances around. Most crews have pulled out, though a small army still swarms over the area, clearing huge chunks of concrete and mangled parts of cars.

His gaze snags on Eddie, sitting on the curb by himself, shoulders hunched, head bowed. Face smudged with dirt, he looks as drained as Buck feels. He only saw Eddie in passing a few times in the chaos of the day, the different crews mixing and jumping in where needed. Seeing him now, the obvious pain in his eyes and tightness in his shoulders, Buck’s heart breaks. He’s been wanting to talk to Eddie about coming home or trying again or _something_ , because he can’t keep living like this. He misses Eddie and he misses seeing Emory and London every day and he wants his husband back. But the words get trapped in his throat every time.

He hesitates, then grabs another bottle of water for Eddie. As peace offerings go, it’s not much, but it’s at least something. He approaches Eddie cautiously, knowing from experience not to spook him when he’s drawn in on himself like this.

“Eddie?” he says in a low voice, then again louder, and Eddie’s head snaps up, though he seems to look through Buck rather than at him.

“Here, drink this. It might help.”

Eddie takes the bottle mechanically and thanks Buck quietly. He doesn’t open the bottle, but Buck can’t force him. When he turns to walk away, Eddie grabs his wrist, thumb digging into the groove on the underside, something he used to do to ground himself after tough calls. Buck looks down at him, and Eddie raises his chin, actually meeting Buck’s eyes for the first time in god knows how long. They haven’t voluntarily touched each other like this in even longer.

“There were, there were so many. I couldn’t—” Eddie sounds wrecked, voice fading out.

“I know.” He knows it all too well, that itchy, helpless feeling when you desperately want to save someone but it’s already too late.

“Chris, the girls are they—”

“Safe at home, I promise.” Emory and London’s babysitter texted a picture of them eating a snack after Emory got home from school, though he hadn’t had an opportunity to check his phone until a bit ago. He doesn’t know about Chris, but he can’t allow himself to think otherwise. Chris should be on campus, no where near here.

Eddie shudders, some of the tension in his shoulders easing.

Reaching out, Buck rubs a patch of dirt off Eddie’s cheek, right under his eye. Eddie makes a broken noise that tears at Buck’s heart. He squeezes Buck’s wrist tighter so it’s almost painful and tugs him closer. Buck wants to wrap his arms around Eddie and hold on forever, but it’s been a long, taxing day and now’s not the time to push it. He kneels in front of Eddie, hands on Eddie’s thighs. When he doesn’t pull away and only lets out a harsh breath, Buck tips forward and rests their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry,” Buck murmurs.

“Me too,” Eddie replies softly.

Buck closes his eyes to hold back tears. His heart is racing. He wonders if Eddie’s is too. He ignores the broken pieces of asphalt digging into his knees and revels in being this close to Eddie, which hasn’t happened in so, so long. Eddie swallows, his throat clicking, and Buck remembers that Eddie never drank the water. He finds the bottle a couple feet away; Eddie must’ve dropped it. He presses the bottle into Eddie’s hand. Eddie thanks him and smiles. It trembles at the edges but it’s beautiful. Buck's heart stutters painfully. He smiles back, then sits next to Eddie on the curb, close, their shoulders and thighs wedged together. He watches Eddie drink, curling his fingers over the edge of the curb, startling when Eddie slides his hand over and hooks his pinky around Buck's.

This isn’t a magical fix-it—so much needs to be said and worked through—but maybe it’ll be the first step on their way back to each other. Their new journey starts now.


End file.
